


Worth Your Weight In Gold

by GaHoolianGirl



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: (part 2), Canon Compliant, Comfort, Dorks in Love, Grand Prix Final, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Reassurances, There are probably typos, Well it wont be in about a week but as of right now, post episode 11
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-15
Updated: 2016-12-15
Packaged: 2018-09-08 17:13:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8853517
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GaHoolianGirl/pseuds/GaHoolianGirl
Summary: Even the comforting weight of the golden ring on his finger wasn’t enough to totally quell his doubts. There was no way he placed first. He didn’t get gold, Viktor wouldn’t marry him, he would leave...





	

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sorry I couldn't keep my promise about the F/F fic but like, Viktuuri man... Episode 11 was a time and a half, and it exhausted me in both good ways and bad. This is my hypothetical scenario of what happens at the Grand Prix Finals.

When his free skate came to a close, Yuuri Katsuki knew he did not win the Grand Prix Finals.

He’d been a skater long enough to be able to give a good guess of his score after he performed, and that routine did not get him the gold. He’d place, he worked damn hard so he  _better_ place, but that first spot was not his. He slid off the ice, tempted to just put on his blade guards and walk right past Viktor, but something in his coach’s eyes stopped him. He let Viktor put his guards on like usual, but not a word was shared between them.

Even the comforting weight of the golden ring on his finger wasn’t enough to totally quell his doubts. There was no way he placed first. He didn’t get gold, _Viktor wouldn’t marry him, he would leave..._

Viktor grabbed his hand and nearly dragged him to the Kiss and Cry, disturbingly silent. He tugged Yuuri down to sit next to him, only tightening the grip he had on his hands as they announced the scores. His name was not the first announced.

Yuuri’s heart dropped into his stomach. _Second. Silver._ The band on his finger shone under the bright lights, _Not gold._

“Yuuri, you know as well as I do that your performance was worthy of silver. You earned it. It was a hard won success.”

He took a deep, stuttering breath, “Yeah, I know.”

Viktor wasn’t looking him the eyes, and it scared him, “I’m almost happier this way.”

“Huh?” _Why on Earth is he happy!? I didn’t get the gold even though I ran my mouth like an idiot all those times!_

“Because if you have won gold, you would have trouble believing what I’m about to do right now. You would have thought that was the only reason I’d do it.”

With one finger, Viktor beckoned the cameramen to turn their way, and as if he was magic (as Yuuri was so thoroughly convinced he was) they all looked at them. Yuuri’s hand was suddenly cold and empty.

_This is it, he’s going to resign..._

Viktor didn’t stand, but slide off the bench, smoothly transitioning down on one knee. He took Yuuri’s hand again, and slid the ring off his finger.

“I did not think I needed to buy a second one,” he said, finally looking into Yuuri’s eyes, who wanted to cry at the fond look held in them.

“Yuuri, you did not win gold today. I’m sure you could have, but who says you should have?”

“Viktor, you’re confusing me...”

“I’m saying you have gold right here. Something we earned together, off the ice. Something we can cherish together, off the ice.”

By this point there were tears in Yuuri’s eyes. The paparazzi's lights were flashing like mad but neither man paid them any mind.

“I said we’d get married if you won gold, but that was just to encourage you. I wanted to give you a goal. Call me selfish for taking back my word...” he flashed his favorite smirk, the _I’m-Viktor-Nikiforov-And-You-Can’t-Say-No-To-Me_ look that Yuuri knew so well. He slipped the ring he had removed back onto Yuuri’s finger, “Would you considering marrying me anyway?”

It wasn’t exactly the way those things were usually worded, and it was on international television, but Yuuri couldn’t think of anything more befitting of Viktor. _“You’re an idiot,”_ he says softly in Japanese, as tears fell down his cheeks.

Viktor tilted his head, clearly familiar with some of the words he’d said, but Yuuri didn’t give him time to ponder it’s meaning, as he nearly jumped out of his seat to hug him. They both went tumbling down to the floor, the cameras following. Their gentle kiss was also caught on tape.

Yuuri felt some selfish pleasure at knowing that he and Viktor probably stole all the attention from the actual gold medalist, and he smiled into Viktor’s shoulder when he pulled away.

He felt a shaky laugh against the back of his neck, “That’s a yes?”

“Yes, yes, yes...” Yuuri muttered, still crying. He hadn’t cried this much since the last Grand Prix, but now these tears were full of joy. He had dreamt of this moment the way only star struck teenagers could. He’s going to be married to Viktor Nikiforov after placing at the Grand Prix. His idol. A skating god.

A painfully flawed man who didn’t know how to handle tears or things that didn’t go his way. He was overly affectionate, and didn’t know what his presence did to everyone in the room. He always seemed to forget his promises, except the ones made to his student...his lover.

Viktor Nikiforov was no longer the man on his posters nor the man whose routines he spent hours watching and memorizing. He was a man who loved Yuuri Katsuki, and was loved by him just as much in return.

“Still upset about that loss?” Viktor said, propping himself up on his elbow. Yuuri went up with him.

He smiled, making a fist in Viktor’s scarf, “I probably always will be. But I already have gold, one that I worked hard for.”

Yuuri could hear the announcer saying something about them over the intercom but it was drowned out by Viktor’s quiet whisper in his ear. It was Russian and a phrase he didn’t recognize.

“I love you,” he repeated softly, in English this time. Yuuri followed suite with a smile, first in Japanese than in English. By this point the media had gotten bored with the two lovers on the floor and had moved on to the other medalists. They stood up and brushed themselves off.

“Let’s go meet Minako and Mari,” Viktor said, grabbing his hand again. Yuuri squeezed, happily following him. The scoring still weighed heavily on him and he felt that the medal would even moreso, but he knew now that no matter how heavy it got, he didn’t have to carry it alone.•

**Author's Note:**

> Second is still really great, but poor, anxious Yuuri would need some help in seeing that. I also didn't bother looking up the words in other languages because I'd butcher them, and didn't want to wait to get someone to translate.


End file.
